Blameless
by vr2lbast
Summary: Loveless. Ritsuka. While taking a walk on a snowy day, Ritsuka stops to build a snowman and finds himself wondering about parental responsibility.


Blameless (January 2007) 

It was snowing.

Ritsuka looked up at the fluffy white flakes as they drifted down from the darkening sky. He resisted the childish urge to stick out his tongue and taste their chill, settling instead for the soft touch of the flakes as they landed on his upturned face and evaporated against the heat of his skin. One landed on his nose, making him sneeze. Soubi would have said it was a cute sneeze.

Well, yes…enough of that.

Ritsuka bowed his head and flicked his ears to shift the snow that had built up in his hair. He wondered idly if Soubi was watching the snow come down as well. It didn't really matter since Ritsuka wasn't speaking to Soubi right now _anyway_, but, if he was, Ritsuka wondered what he would make of it. Did he see purity and a new beginning like some did? Or did he prefer to think of winter as a time of death and cold? Maybe he saw it only as a period of sleep, the world safe and warm beneath a thick downy blanket.

The cold stung his throat and Ritsuka coughed lightly – a cute cough, said Soubi in the back of his mind. He wasn't sure what he thought of winter. He supposed he used to like it. He didn't remember the other Ritsuka, but the bits he could piece together from his mother's reactions suggested someone who liked to play. The other Ritsuka probably liked winter sports: skiing, skating, and pulling a sled around with his friends, rather than taking long walks on his own.

Rituska obsessively checked the time; it wouldn't do for his mother to worry. He found he still had a few minutes before he had to turn around and head home or risk her wrath.

He pulled on the pair of woolen mittens that he kept stuffed in the pockets of his jacket and gathered up some of the sticky snow that had already accumulated on the side of the road where the heat of the asphalt couldn't melt it on contact. He shaped it into a smooth round ball and looked around. There was no one to throw it at, which was just as well because he wasn't sure he wanted the confrontation. He just wanted to make snowballs and throwing them seemed the thing to do.

He turned the ball over in his hands as he walked, scooping snow off low walls and shrubs and packing it on, making the ball bigger, smoothing it with his mittens. It was almost too big to hold in one hand now, much less throw with any accuracy, and its size put him in mind of something else he could do with a snowball.

He stopped by a bench and put the snowball down on the seat. It had a tendency to roll a little and Ritsuka felt a spark of pride for how perfectly round he had made it, but he needed it to sit still, so he built it a little platform of lightly-packed snow and pushed the snowball down on top of it, creating a little nest. When he was certain it wouldn't roll away, he scooped up more snow and made a second snowball. Risking the cold, he held the second snowball in one hand and pulled the mitten off the other with his teeth. Melting a handful of snow into slush, he used it to cement the two snowballs together and smiled.

He had a little snowman.

It wasn't a very big snowman though; perhaps it was a snow child. Ritsuka put his mitten back on and fashioned some ears for it, smoothing the two triangular lumps into the top of the head. He then worked on the base, packing it down some more and shaping it into a long tail that wrapped comfortably around the snow child's feet. He poked around the gutter for pebbles and, when he found some that he judged would be small enough, gave the child some eyes and a nose.

It was a very cute snowboy – or girl, Rituska allowed, although he felt it was a boy. Of course, now that he had made it, what would he do with it?

He had originally thought to leave it on the bench – a little surprise for the next person who came by – but it looked so small and vulnerable there, that he felt bad about leaving it behind. More than likely, some bigger kids would come along and smash it and the thought filled Ritsuka with distaste. He knew the snowboy wouldn't last – spring came and snow melted, but there was something natural about that, like a grandfather passing away peacefully of old age. It was sad, but a kinder death than most. Smashing, on the other hand…

A brief vision of flame and the half-dreamt smell of burnt hair and flesh sent shivers up Ritsuka's spine.

Well, smashing was just bad.

The snowboy was too delicate to be picked up directly, but, with a little work to loosen the base, Ritsuka was able to slide it right off the bench and prop it in the crook of his arm. It was difficult not to squish the tail, but he had no other choice.

"Sorry," he said under his breath as the tip of the tail crumbled apart. "I'll fix that up when I find a place safe to put you." Then, realizing that he was talking to a lump of snow, Ritsuka cast a furtive glance up and down the street and sighed with relief when he saw no one.

"I don't think Mom wants you in the freezer," he whispered as he brushed newly fallen snow from the head and ears of the snowboy. He tried to convince himself that he was organizing his thoughts out loud, but the truth was that he felt rather parental toward the little snow child. It was pure white, except for its little pebble features, and looked somehow innocent and lonely, lost in a world of tall people who didn't have time for snowboys. It hasn't asked to come into the world and Ritsuka felt a need to protect it.

"I hope you don't mind," he said in a low voice, as if the show child might resent his interference. Maybe it was tougher than it looked. Maybe it would have stood up to a bit of smashing. But the melting snow gave its pebbled eyes a living sheen that Ritsuka felt was gratitude. Snowboys needed taking care of, even if they couldn't always express themselves.

Ritsuka was a bit relieved when he reached his front gate. He was too old to be walking around with snowboys in his arms, no matter how delicate and innocent they were. He found a chilly but sheltered place beneath the stairs – perfect for snow children who didn't want to gain any sudden weight in a storm – and tucked the snowboy in. He touched up the tail, wiped the teary pebbled eyes with his thumb, and gathered some of the crinkly brown leaves from autumn's last fall around the base to keep the snowboy's feet from freezing to the ground. He felt a warm swell of pride for having brought it back safely and he thought that it might be happy too.

"I wanted to," he told it, in case it felt bad about being unable to care for itself. "I don't think Mom will find you here and throw you away; you should be safe until spring. And speaking of Mom, I've got to go."

He still had a few minutes before his mother started to worry, but Ritsuka felt he might like to call Soubi and see what he thought of the snow. If he called from his bedroom window, they could watch it come down together and he could tell Soubi all about the snowboy. Maybe he would even like to come over and see it.

Somehow, Ritsuka knew that Soubi would appreciate it the most.

–End–


End file.
